


Harder To Breathe

by Jamaican Princess (Rocquellan)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Rimming, Shifter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 23:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocquellan/pseuds/Jamaican%20Princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam just wants to be with Dean, but when a shifter reveals their secret to his father, he feels responsible for John's absence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harder To Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is 15.

It was another one of those generic small towns in another part of the great US of A. This time Sam was left in a motel in a population 500 town with his brother, Dean, on the outskirts of Wisconsin while their father left to deal with a possible haunting in the next state over.

A few hours, their dad had said, so he and Dean expected the man back in a short while, the next day if all went according to plan (which it rarely ever did).  
  
It was already getting late and Sam was in one of the two motel beds in the bedroom, waiting on Dean to come back from getting them some food from a 24/7 diner down the street. He’d made sure the salt at the door wasn’t disturbed and that the door was firmly locked. The TV broadcasted for two channels, none of which he could watch, which is why he was currently on the bed waiting on his brother to return.  
  
He had no idea when he fell asleep while waiting for Dean, but he knew one moment he was awake and the next he wasn’t.  
  
0o0~SPN~0o0  
  
“Sam?”  
  
“Mmmm?” Sam mumbled, finding himself awakening from his slumber. He peeked from under his lashes up at his brother, his beautiful and sexy brother, whose voice he’d recognised even in his sleep and asked tiredly, “Dean...?” He looked around to notice it wasn’t morning yet, the moonlight still filtered through the curtain from the glass window in the kitchen and the place was still dark. He looked back up at Dean, who stood over him with an unreadable expression on his face.  
  
“I got a burger for me and protein shake for you.” Dean said, showing him the branded bag.  
  
“Ok.” Sam answered. He sat up in the small bed before scooting over so Dean could take a seat beside him with the white paper bag.  
  
“I got your favorite, strawberry,” Dean grinned while reaching into the bag.  
  
“Thanks,” Sam answered, wiping at his eyes. He suddenly looked from Dean beside him to the two wooden chairs that were once around the small dinner table in the kitchen, that now sat beside each other a few feet from their bed near the opposite wall. They looked so out of place and random Sam squinted to see if he was seeing properly.  
  
“Dean, why are the kitchen chairs in the bedroom?”  
  
Dean shrugged noncommittally, like it wasn’t a big deal but Sam wanted an answer so he watched his brother carefully.  
  
“I wanted to fuck you on one, but I liked one better at the time so I brought both, just in case I end up bending you over one and letting you ride me on the other...”  
  
Blunt. Sam could feel the heat rising in his cheeks to spread throughout his body at Dean’s words and he squirmed as it went straight to his cock. He’s only 15, dammit. He blamed it on teenage hormones and the fact that his older brother is so hot and he’s still kinda new to the dirty mouth and dirty in bed side of Dean.  
  
“Here, drink this and build up your strength, you’re going to need it.” Dean says while handing Sam his shake and Sam takes it with intensified blushing, knowing what that meant; Dean’s horny and they’ll be fucking for a while and he won’t stop unless the world was ending or something of equal importance happened.  
  
Dean took large bites into his burger while Sam sucked through the straw in the middle of the cup, letting out a startling yelp when Dean ran his fingers over his cock before squeezing, rubbing, tugging. The feelings ran through Sam in heightened stages until he was widening his legs, inviting Dean to take it further.  
  
“Like that, baby brother...?” Dean asked, burger forgotten on the bedside table with his green eyes intense and heated; lust filled.  
  
“Yeah Dean, yeah...” Sam moaned, adjusting himself on the single bed so Dean would have more room to touch. Dean lifted the hem of his shirt and maneuvered it off his body before tossing it, then he promptly latched on to a nipple with his hot mouth, causing him to buck and gasp as the sexual intensity coursed throughout his body. When Dean pulled his pants and boxer down to reveal his hardened cock, kissing a trail from his nipple down to said cock to start sucking, a loud moan of appreciation rumbled from deep in his throat somewhere. As Dean went to town on his shaft, burying the tip of his nose in the soft hair of his pubic while sucking him dry, Sam grabbed the soft, short head of hair and urged Dean to his frenzied pace by shoving his head into his thrusting hips.  
  
“God, Dean. Oh God...” Sam moaned, swallowing to help alleviate his suddenly dry throat. “I want to feel you so bad, Dean.”  
  
Dean pulled back with a soft pop of his lips and promptly started sucking on Sam’s tongue, kissing him tender but hotly, making Sam taste his own precome and burger.  
  
In between nips and light kisses Dean asked. “You know I’m gonna look after you, right Sammy?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam moaned, offering his neck up for more kisses while Dean pushed his boxers and pants completely off. Three months since their relationship became a physical one and Sam never regretted it. Not once, not ever. He loved his brother too much to think this was wrong, even if he knew it was a blasphemy to the rest of society. Dean just made him feel so right.  
  
“Want my tongue in your ass, Sam?” Dean asked while kissing down his shoulder blade, down his side and over his hips while his warm hands pushed him gently on to his stomach. Sam moaned out his appeal because getting rimmed by Dean is as hot as it got. Everything Dean did sent ripples of pleasure and sparks of electricity throughout his body, but rimming had a special place all it’s own. He’d felt jittery the first time Dean wanted to try it, but when that dexterous tongue went down on him it was heavenly, earning it’s own appeal, different from anal penetration or blowjobs.  
  
Dean bit the soft flesh of his left cheek, then the right before commanding, “Separate them asscheeks for me, Sammy.”  
  
Sam complied, grabbing the firm mounds of flesh and pulling them apart for his brother’s appreciative eyes and probing tongue. Dean always loved to look at it, said it was pink and pretty and kept calling to him like a siren; he wouldn’t mind tasting and fucking it all day, every day.  
He squirmed when Dean blew a puff of breath right on his hole before diving right in and licking him out and he moaned like a slut while his engorged cock rubbed against the coarse bed sheets. His body got whipcord tense and he arched his back so Dean could snake a hand between his legs and jerk him off in tandem.  
  
“Oh...oh shit, Dean.” Sam moaned. It was a double attack of epic proportions and he hugged the pillow under his head in a white-knuckled grip, trying hard to survive the surge of sexual overdose because Dean would be the death of him. He swore. Dean lined himself up perfectly between his open legs, held his hips firmly in place with both hands and then he stiffened his tongue and stabbed at the pucker in short angry bursts until Sam was screaming into the pillow and he arched his back, undulating his hips and fucking Dean’s tongue with the force. He gasped for breath,cursed, moaned and worshipped his brother’s name in that span of moment and he knew his brother deserved it. He whined when Dean pulled back and shuffled up until his hard, leaking cock was lined up with his ass and Dean’s voice in his ear growled.  
  
“So fucking good, Sammy. Taste so fucking good and now I’m gonna fuck it, shove m’ dick so far up in there until you scream, baby brother...”  
  
“Dean, please...” Sam moaned, anticipating the penetration he knew was to come. He pushed back on Dean’s cock, wanting to take it all but Dean shuffled just out of reach, making sure he couldn’t be breached and he whined piteously. “Fuck me Dean, please!”  
  
“Gonna open you up first,” Dean groaned in barely withheld lust and Sam heard the pop of a cap, then a he felt a lubed finger breach him.  
  
“No. Oh God, Dean...need more,” Sam whined at the intrusion. He needed to feel that huge cock, like now.  
  
“Not gonna hurt you Sam, not now, not yet.”  
  
“...not yet...” It was those words that managed to slither through the lust and the need in Sam’s mind, but in the span of a second Dean had snapped his hip forward and shoved right in to the hilt, eliciting a shout of surprised, wondrous pain that encompassed him from his head to the tips of his toes and making them curl. He liked it rough sometimes, Dean knew, and when the need was too much to bare, his brother threw caution to wind and would ream him royally.  
  
“Dean!” Sam groaned in a litany of worship, holding tight to the beds small metal headboard while his brother fucked into him harshly. Even then, he stopped and threw his head back until it almost touched Dean’s shoulder, breathing him in to see if there was any change in his scent. It was all Dean though; gun oil, the impala, musk, aftershave and his brother’s own unique smell. While his body catalogued the pleasure, a small part of his mind went into hunter mode because ‘not hurting him yet’ was so out of character for Dean it actually set off small warning bells in his head. But the sex was just as good though, so damn perfect he didn’t want it to stop; couldn’t stop just like that because every other instinct argued harshly with his doubt.  
  
“Oh my god, mmm, christo,” Sam moaned into the pillow, knowing that saying it like that would still harm a demon if one had somehow managed to possess his brother. His voice was muffled, hopefully not too clear over their combined moans and grunts and he released a breath when Dean didn’t say anything, but didn’t seem to be in any distress or discomfort either.  
  
“Come here, Sam, gonna fuck you open so good...”  
  
Sam doesn’t protest when Dean manhandles him on to his back before throwing his legs back and pounding into him once again. He takes pleasure in the sight of Dean’s cock sliding in and out of him, making him throw his head back and moan in wanton ecstasy, body hot and coated in a light sheen of sweat. They kiss passionately, trading saliva and illicit sounds while Sam holds on to his brother tight, who’s pounding into him so hard sometimes he’s shifting on the bed.  
  
Dean’s deep green eyes were clouded over with immense lust and he never takes his eyes off Sam, breathing in his air like how he’s filling him up inside. Dean’s muscles rippled and contracted beautifully and Sam had always admired his brother’s body, the hard ridges of his six pack and the breadth of his chest, his sexy, bowed out, firm legs and savory features.  
  
While Dean hits that bundle of nerves, Sam begs his brother to jack him off and it doesn’t take too long before he comes, bringing Dean over the edge with him a moment later as they cry out their release.  
  
They’re both on the bed, filthy with all sorts of bodily fluids, breathing hard and even through his post coital bliss and his panting, Sam just has to ask. “Dean?”  
  
“Yeah, Sammy?”  
  
“You ok?”  
  
Dean snorted before draping an arm around him and pulling him close, taking in a deep breath and just relaxing into him. “I’m here with you, why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
Something warms inside Sam’s chest at that and he ducks his head shyly before settling into his brother’s embrace. Dean’s doesn’t like to show his emotions, but when he does Sam knows he means it and he loves him more for it. There’s something that’s bothering him a little though and he looks at the clock on the wall facing him before asking. “What time do you think dad’s going to get here?”  
  
Dean shifts, starts more than likely if his movements are anything to go by and Sam rises out of his listless haze when Dean answered suddenly, “Dunno. Who cares about dad anyway?”  
  
Sam turned to look his brother square in the eye. It’s not like Dean to be so dismissive of their father and his whereabouts. Never. He’s inching to move off the bed when he’s grabbed by the hair and pulled roughly forward so his face is inches from Dean’s, reading the angry scowl creasing his brow.  
  
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”  
  
Sam tried to pull free, panic rising in his chest from the new turn of events. “You’re not my brother!”  
  
Dean-the man-the thing, chuckled. “Took you long enough, Sammy. The only thing that saved your ass is your ass. I have all of Dean’s thoughts and feelings and when I came here to kill you I just had to have a taste first. His need for you is like a physical thing.”  
  
“Let go!” Sam screamed as he was hauled off the bed by his hair. He tried hard to dislodge the thing’s grip on his hair but it was so tight he felt like every strand was being torn from the scalp. It was ironclad and no matter how much he struggled or lashed out, nothing worked. “What the hell are you? Where’s Dean?!”  
  
Sam’s panic was thundering in his chest and he couldn’t do anything when he was thrown into the dingy dresser of the room, yelping as he hit his side and head painfully, hard enough to nearly topple it where it stood.  
  
“Imagine the look on John Winchesters face when he saw exactly what you two are like when his back his turned. There’s more than one way to skin a cat and I’ll destroy John winchester by destroying his children and his faith, just like he and his hunter friends did mine.”  
  
The sneered words were followed by kicks and punches, hard enough to crack ribs and almost break bones and Sam cried out in hurt fury at each hit. It took him a moment to realize he could hear Dean and dad shouting faintly from somewhere in the room, as if they’re trapped in a bubble or something. Through one swollen eye he looked and realized that the frigging empty chairs were rattling and shifting minutely, as if someone was bound to them and trying to escape.  
  
Dad and Dean are safe at least, thank God, even if he can’t explain the magic behind their invisibility. His sight of the chairs line his vision up with a half mirror on the wall and he can see the reflective eyes of the psuedo Dean glow. Another wellmplaced kick to the midriff and the pain is excruciating, but Sam managed to wrack his brain and try to remember the exact lore on what this thing might be.  
  
1\. Can take the shape of others.  
2\. Inhumane strength.  
3\. Flashing eyes in the mirror.  
  
A shapeshifter. He needs a silver knife to kill it and there’s one in his and Dean’s duffels by their beds.  
  
“Sam!”  
  
Everything hurts when Sam is grabbed by the throat and pulled to his feet, gasping for breath as the thing tries to choke him to death. Through the pounding in his ears and the racing of his heart he can hear both Dean and his dad’s panicked voices calling his name and shouting obscenities, but it sounds like they’re trapped in an invisible bubble of some sort.  
  
“Next, I’m going to strangle pretty little Dean and break his neck, just like you.” The shapeshifter whispered in his ear and Sam could feel his sight tunneling and his chest burning with the need for air. His throat felt like it was going to be snapped at any second and he clawed weakly at the hands holding him, some part of him wondering for a split second why Dean was hurting him so badly. He gurgled out a plea for help until he felt himself falling and everything went black.   
  
0o0~SPN~0o0  
  
“Sammy?”  
  
Sam was lifted from the fog of nothingness by the sound of Dean’s worried voice filtering through his hearing. He became dimly aware that everything hurt badly and when he finally managed to open his eyes and focusing on Dean, he could see his brother had a huge shiner over his left eye and on the same jaw.  
  
“Sammy, you ok?” Dean sounded panicked and Sam only watched as he grabbed something beside him before a straw was placed at his lips. He drank gratefully, because he had so many questions but felt like wedged in his throat was a huge ball of cotton. He coughed before getting the first syllable out. “Dean...?”  
  
“Sam, Sammy, take it easy, ok?”  
  
Dean sounded all shades of panicked and Sam wanted to reassure him that he was fine; would live and get better even if right now he felt like he got hit by a speeding bus. He realized belatedly that he was covered in bandages around his middle, his hands and the top of his head.  
  
“Oh God, you scared the crap out of me, Sam.”  
  
Sam cracked a half smile, face hurting the further up his lips went. “Sorry, Dean.”  
  
“Yeah, you better be.” Dean grinned, watching him fondly from his sitting position on the side of the bed, relieved.  
  
Sam was curious though, so he asked, “What happened?”  
  
Dean shifted uncomfortably on the chair before looking away and then back, saying, “We ganked it -silver knife straight through the heart.”  
  
“Where was you and dad?”  
  
At that Dean coughed. “Right here, Sammy.”  
  
“So dad saw...” Sam could feel his stomach bottoming out and his chest tightening. He was being shameless for his fake brother and his dad saw. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.  
  
“Sam...” Dean’s voice was pensive and strained.  
  
“Is that why he hit you?”  
  
Dean started at the question, looking at him with false bravado and then he had the nerve to deny it. “He didn’t hit me Sam, I got this from the shifter.”  
  
“Liar!” Sam shouted and he gingerly turned on his side away from Dean, pulling the sheet up over his head to cover him completely. He didn't want to be here, not in this world where the shame of what his father saw clawed at him and flayed him open. What would his dad say when he saw him? What would he do if he was willing to give his good son a shiner to swell his eye shut and a split lip?  
  
“Sam, Sammy...” Dean sighed. He really had nothing to say. “I’ll make you some chicken soup.”  
  
Sam feels the first onset of tears at the sound of Dean walking away.  
  
0o0~SPN~0o0  
  
“No word from dad?” Sam asked while they sat on a dingy couch in a motel in Twin Falls, Idaho. It’s been a month since the man had contacted them and while Sam appreciated the reprieve from what he knows will be the judging of a lifetime, John is still his father and he’s still worried. What if something supernatural had gotten to him and they didn't know? Dean had explained, that back in Wisconsin, he and dad were trapped behind some type of one way bubble, where they could see and hear, but he couldn't. A part pf him wanted to know what his father had said, how he'd reacted to the sight but every time he opened his mouth Dean cut him off, did his best to avoid the subject and he knew it was worse than he'd thought.  
  
“No. Bobby called, can’t seem to pick up a trail either,” Dean answered, cleaning the gun on the table with a little too much force. Somehow Sam feels this is his fault. If his dad hadn’t seen him like that then... He stood and walked across the room, keeping his distance from Dean because what if his dad came back and saw them standing too closely? He felt like a huge disappointment, a freak.  
  
“Sam...?” Dean’s voice was hard edged and when he looked at Dean, his brother was glaring at him. “I keep telling you it wasn’t your fault.”  
  
Sam sighed. The physical scars were healed, but for him the emotional ones were still festering. “But he left because of me, because I wanted...”  
  
“Because we both wanted, Sam. I told dad it’s who we are now and it’s too late to change us. He couldn’t accept us and he made his choice.”  
  
Sam wished he’d been awake to know what was said, but in the same breath he was glad he couldn’t see the look on his father’s face. He knew he might regret it for the rest of his life.  
  
By now, Dean was standing just mere inches away from him and Sam wanted so much to reach out and hold his brother, to let him comfort him like he knew Dean wanted to but there was still that fear, that John Winchester branded fear that this was wrong and too messed up and they shouldn’t because he didn’t approve. Funny how he finally gives a damn about his father’s opinion when he’s been questioning and sometimes shunning his father’s orders since he was twelve years old.  
  
Every time Dean tried to get close he’d push him away, until Dean just left him alone and said he’d give him time to get over his fears. He wanted so badly to hold Dean and kiss him, but every time he tried he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He startled when Dean brought a hand up to shift his bangs from his eyes.  
  
“It’s not your fault Sammy, never was.”  
  
Dean walked back to the table and Sam just stood there, wondering if he’ll always be destined to screw things up like this.


End file.
